DAY

Day...I haven't heard that nickname in a long time. I'm surprised it's what June knew me by. But I suppose I haven't seen her in a long time either.

Day...It brings me back to the time of stealing Notes and food from vendor's carts on the streets of Lake. In the market with Tess and June who then I knew simply as "The Girl."

We are back at the table, and feasting on excellent cuisine. This time, we (we being June and I) are included in the ongoing debate about the merits of the Trial. I'll add an opinion in every once in a while; I'm on Pascao's side, the side that is against the Trial.

When the main course is over, I'm afraid we're done for the night, that I'll have to leave sadly with Eden. Having met June again, I really don't want to ever leave, never stop until I have every last detail about her committed to memory, until I have discovered every last forgotten moment.

Tess's voice stops my worries. "Dessert? I'm paying, so get whatever you want."

"I'm craving chocolate," Pascao says to Tess as he grabs a dessert menu.

"That sounds nice," June says. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she was in a daze. But I do know better and June doesn't get distracted like that. Or maybe she does and I don't know her as well as I thought.

"Really, I was thinking something more healthy, 'cause, you know..." Tess trails off.

"Hey," June says playfully, smacking her friend's hand, "The birthday girl wants what the birthday girl wants."

"Chocolate it is," Tess says, feigning annoyance.

The whole table is smiling, Eden and Pascao grinning knowingly, Tess smirking and shaking her head, and June, June beaming with a smile from ear to ear. She turns to me, and I think if possible, her smile grows even wider. I return it.

"Okay, so, what kind of chocolate dessert?" I ask to break the silence that arises.

"Cake. It's June's favorite," Pascao replies, giving June a knowing smile.

This is what I mean. Even if I hadn't lost my memory, I am certain I would not have known that. It's the little things that make someone who they are. It's the little things that I'm working to learn about June.

Tess waves the waiter over and gives him our orders. After, we sit, and with our Trial dispute long gone, we move back to the subject that brought us all here: June.

"Why don't you tell us about your love life, June?" As Tess says this, I am in the process of swallowing water and almost cough it back up. This gets me alert. Sure, I might've been wondering the same thing, but the topic suddenly makes me feel uneasy. Especially when June looks at me as she responds.

"Nothing to tell," she says.

I am surprised that Tess lets the subject drop that quickly, though I do see the two exchange a glance that says We'll talk about this later. Without missing a beat, she says: "Fine, what about your co-workers?"

"Well, currently, they're making me train the Drake prodigies. Fifteen year olds," she chuckles softly. "Makes me wonder how bad I was at that age. I'm surrounded by teenagers and their hormones. Anden's thinking about changing the procedures to have someone help me out. He thinks it'll be nice to have someone my own age around."

"Sounds nice," Tess says amicably. "We had a rough day in the hospital. There were a bunch of soldiers coming in from a training accident exercise. We were packed."

"Food!" Pascao says suddenly and loudly, pointing at the waiter approaching with our desserts. "That was fast," he remarks. Then, lowering his voice, "We should tip them well."

Everyone dives for a spoon. I grab the closest one to me, which also happens to be the one that June's hand lands on at the exact same moment. She stares me down, then, before I can react, rips the spoon out of my hand with surprising strength. I am shocked that she was able to catch me so off guard. Instead, I settle for the last spoon left.

We cut the gigantic cake, leaving the five of us with large, lopsided, triangle slices. I tentatively take a small bite. It is unlike anything I have ever tasted. My childhood was spent in poverty, our money spent on only the food we needed to survive. My teenage years were spent scrounging for food on the streets. Overall, more than half of my life was spent mostly hungry. In my most recent years, Eden and I have been enjoying the benefits of a luxurious life. After all, we've earned it.

But then, every so often, I think back to those moments where I thought the hunger would surely kill me, that I would never eat again, like there was a fierce animal gnawing at my shrunken stomach.

It would be wasteful to not eat, but I would feel so guilty if I finished it.

So, I put my spoon down politely and, while everyone else devours their food blissfully, announce: "I think I'll save mine for later."

A waiter serving a nearby table offers to wrap it up for me, which I gladly let him do. While everyone finishes up, I allow my gaze to rest on June a bit. She is probably the only one at this table who grew up without fear of starvation.

It shows on her face. She has no qualms or worries as she wolfs down her favorite chocolate cake. I didn't ever have favorites. Anything and everything was my favorite.

The rest of them are enjoying the lavish cake. Unlike me, they have taken their past a different way. They eat like they might never again, because when they were little, they didn't know if they would.

June must've seen me all depressed and nostalgic, staring off into the distance, because she reaches over, grabs my hand and asks, "Day, are you okay?"

The table goes quiet for a little when they hear June use my old nickname, but instead of saying anything, they seem to silently agree that we must've come to a consent rather than that June had let it slip accidentally.

"Yeah, fine," I say. I need to stop touching her hands. Everytime I do, we're in our own little world and I'm unfocused. I need to stop being unfocused. I draw my hand away.

I'm not sure what to feel when she drops her gaze and finishes her dessert looking hurt.

"Well, it's been a lovely evening," June tells us politely once we are outside.

"Yeah, you're welcome for planning it," Tess says with mock irritation.

They each thank Eden and Pascao. Tess comes up to me and holds her arms out. We embrace and it's like the streets again when she used to sleep on my jacket, her head slumped against my shoulders.

"Hope Eden gets the position," she whispers. "It'll be just like old times."

We pull away. "Yeah, I hope so too."

June comes up to me. I am vaguely aware that our friends are standing right beside us and try my best not to make the moment to intimate. I'm expecting a friendly handshake, so it doesn't quite work out so well when she puts her arms around me.

I stay rigid, wondering if June has ever hugged me before. "I don't remember you being a hugger," I remark playfully as she pulls away.

"I try not to be sentimental but–" she pauses. "Sorry, I've got to go."

I start after her, but something pulls my arm. I jerk back and whip around.

"Come on Daniel, Pascao is walking to the train with us," Eden says.

"Oh, go on, I'll catch up, I have an errand to run," I say, waving him away.

He seems hesitant. "Still know your way around the city?" he asks.

I smile when I respond. "How could I forget?"

He agrees reluctantly, as if I am the younger child that needs to be looked after. I watch him walk away with Pascao before I turn back to the two girls, already walking away.

"Wait," I say, running up to them. Then, to June, "What were you saying before?"

"That I had to leave."

"But–"

"Goodbye, Day," she says, before walking away with Tess.

I suppose it will take a while to get used to the new-old nickname. I want to say something back, but they have turned the corner and are gone.

I feel the bag in my hand and remember the errand. I head for Lake.

It's just like I remembered it. The streets are slightly cleaner that ten years ago. The people are slightly less poor than ten years ago. But overall, it's like my old home. The buildings I pass look creaky and like they might've fallen over long ago if not for the fact that they must cram them tight for space. I get an overwhelming pang of nostalgia and wonder why I miss this part of my life.

I give the cake to the first street beggar I see. It's a little boy, barely ten years old. When I pass him, he doesn't even ask for anything, just looks at me with a worn out expression. I start to hand him the bag, then stop. I dig in my pocket for any Notes I have lying around. Not looking to see how much I'm giving away, I shove some into the bag too and pass them to the little boy. He smiles gratefully, then slips away into an alley.

I slip away too, for I still have one more thing to do. I head for the Opal sector, known for its many places to purchase weaponry. And I come back to my hotel room in Batalla with an embroidered knife sheath and a belt attached. It's soft, yet sturdy, like the girl whose initials are stitched on the side.

Sorry for the long hiatus. I had a rather extreme case of writer's block. Hopefully now that summer's coming I'll post updates more frequently.